And the Knight Speaks
by Belladonna Lee
Summary: Lucius/Harry. With a flourish Lucius drapes a velvet crimson robe over Harry's shoulders, declaring the young man as his new lord.
1. Robe

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and its characters are not mine.

A/N: Written for the 2018 _hp-may-madness_ challenge's Day 5 prompt, _come with me_.

 **And the Knight Speaks**

 _1\. Robe_

With a flourish Lucius draped a velvet crimson robe over Harry's shoulders, declaring the young man as his new lord. Satisfied with his work, he knelt like a knight before Harry, who nevertheless felt more uncomfortable than ever. When the man took his hand and kissed it, Harry fought off the urge to pull his hand away. This snake of a man was the one he wanted for a lover. Turning his back on Lucius Malfoy was not an option—unless he wished to be stabbed in the back.

"The Malfoys have been serving kings and queens for centuries, and from this moment on you will be our new king. I, Lucius Malfoy, shall be your knight and your loyal subject." His lips curving into a graceful smile, Lucius stood up and led Harry to the bed. "It is time for you to go to bed, my liege."

After much teasing and frolicking, Harry found himself lying on his back and Lucius on top of him, kissing him and caressing him and provoking him. The crimson robe lay ruffled beneath his naked body. Everything had happened in such a natural sequence of events that he stopped thinking about right from wrong. For one hazy moment, he forgot they were once enemies, he forgot this man had committed despicable deeds, and he forgot this man had a wife.

He coiled his arms around Lucius, his hands tracing the contour of Lucius' back. Perhaps Lucius merely wanted to dress him up as the pauper king before undressing him and taking him in bed, a game to satisfy the man's fetish and megalomania. Nevertheless, Harry's train of thought fled him when Lucius nibbled his upper lip and placed a warm hand on his thigh. Slowly but surely Lucius' hand eased Harry's thighs apart, and yielding to the man's wish, Harry opened up to his self-proclaimed knight.

By the time Lucius climbed off him, Harry was too listless to bother pulling the robe over himself. Without a word Lucius threw on a dressing gown, lit a cigarette, and settled down on the bed once more. Those grey eyes of his were not looking at Harry; they were squinting at the shadows and the frigid moon outside the window. The heat and the pure white bliss that enveloped Harry only moments ago had deserted him, and he was left in the cold.

"You just want me to be your puppet so that you can play the puppet-master." Harry's voice came out soft and devoid of accusation, as though he was stating the fact and nothing more.

"True. But I have taken a liking to you." Lucius took a long drag of his cigarette, exhaled, and ran a finger along the contour of Harry's cheek. "Besides, you came to me knowing what I am. What does that say about you?"

What did he see in Lucius Malfoy? Harry had been asking himself the same question, and he had yet to find an answer beyond the superficial. "Other than I fancy a man old enough to be my dad and I lust after his body?"

Lucius raised an eyebrow in amusement, and a winsome smile flitted onto those shapely lips of his, lips that were made for kisses. "Well, there is that." He moved his cigarette away from the sheet and flicked away the ashes. "You are welcome to my body for as long as I can keep up with your youthful vitality and please you."

"Liar."

 _I'm the one trying to keep up with you and your healthy appetite,_ Harry thought as he reached out for Lucius, who did not resist his advance. Pulling Lucius on top of him, he caught Lucius' mouth with his mouth and drank in the taste of the man he had come to desire: bitter and smoky and full of sin.

* * *

 _Finis?_


	2. Ring

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and its characters are not mine.

A/N: A continuation to the short piece I wrote a while ago.

 **And the Knight Speaks**

 _2\. Ring_

Like a present stripped of all its ribbons and wrappings, Harry sprawled atop a pile of feather-soft pillows on the ruffled silken sheet. He felt out of place in this room of embossed velvet and polished dark wood, a stranger amongst antiques and bone china and works of art. This room was Lucius' domain; perhaps he too was a part of Lucius' collection. The notion did not sit well with Harry, but he did not want to leave Lucius' bed just yet—not while he could observe the man in question to his heart's content.

Wrapped in a velvet dressing gown that might have been black or the darkest shade of green, Lucius was composing a letter by the firelight. His silver blond hair fell over his face and trailed down his shoulders in a state of dishevelment quite uncharacteristic of him: it was how Harry liked it. A tawny owl perched on the handsome mantelpiece, its unblinking eyes watching Lucius' every movement.

The letter appeared to be a short one, for a minute or two later, Lucius tied the letter to the owl's leg and sent the owl on its way. Striped wings flapped and disturbed the night; candlelight wavered and shadows stirred in half-slumber. A cold draught prickled Harry's body, leaving goose-flesh on his naked skin, and his nipples stood erect in the chill.

After shutting the window with a lazy wave, Lucius fed the letter he had received to the fire and let it burn. With that done he sauntered over to the bed, sat down, and feasted his eyes upon his lord stretch out in languor on his bed. "My apology for the interruption."

"Are you done with your plotting and scheming?" Harry asked while fiddling with the tail end of the sash around Lucius' waist. He wanted nothing more than to untie the sash and peel the dressing gown off Lucius, but a lingering suspicion persisted inside his head and would not be silenced.

Lucius smiled an unreadable smile and toyed with Harry's nipple with a warm finger. "For now."

Harry sucked in a deep breath; Lucius' finger stirred him up and made his body tingle. However much his body craved for Lucius' attention, he had not forgotten what kind of man Lucius Malfoy was. _Constant vigilance_ , Mad-Eye Moody growled from the depths of his memory. Feeling a little guilty, Harry tried not to imagine how the old Auror might react to this love affair.

"Is there anything I should know about?" Harry asked casually, though he doubted Lucius would tell him the truth. This affair of theirs was built upon lust and games and power play, not trust.

"Just a personal matter. It's not something you need to worry about." Lucius withdrew his hand, opened the nightstand drawer, took out a small black box, and offered it to Harry. "I took the liberty of having this made for you."

At once perplexed and wary, Harry sat up on the bed, hesitated for a beat or two, and reached for the box. The box was a little larger than a golden snitch, and it fit nicely in his palm. After weighing it in his hand, he opened the lid and blinked.

Nestled in purple satin was a silver signet-ring. In a fit of curiosity, Harry took out the ring and held it to the candlelight. The seal took the form of a stag so finely rendered he could see each layer of its fur and the details on the antlers. Around the silver band was engraved a sprig of holly that bled tiny ruby berries. The craftsmanship was remarkable, but more remarkable still was how much Lucius seemed to know about him.

 _I can't accept this._ That was what Harry should have said, but what came out of his mouth instead was something else entirely. "Why are you giving me this?"

"As a symbol of your status in the wizarding world." Like a gentleman asking for a dance Lucius extended his hand to Harry. "May I?"

Knowing what Lucius intended to do, Harry felt more awkward than flattered. Nevertheless, he handed the ring over, all the while wondering if the ring was cursed. "If I put on the ring, am I going to become your slave?"

"It's just a ring, my liege," Lucius whispered in that purring voice of his. Harry narrowed his eyes, though he did not comment on Lucius' choice of endearment for him. "The only bit of magic it contains is a self-fitting charm. It has no power over you unless you wish for it."

"I thought you would like having me as your personal sex slave," Harry remarked wryly as he rested his hand on Lucius' thigh, feeling firm flesh beneath soft velvet.

A low chuckle escaped Lucius' lips, a sound that evoked visions of smoky lounges and candlelit bedrooms. "Even though you have already thrown yourself in my lap?"

"You like being on top, don't you?"

"A view from below can be very satisfying too."

Harry did not resist when Lucius took his left hand and slipped the ring onto his ring finger. Cold silver caught the light and glinted like an evening star. It was not something he would ask of Lucius, but it was a part of their game. The signet-ring was as much a prop as the king's velvet robe.

"It's a nice ring," Harry said with sincerity, and indeed it was, an elegant trinket that bore symbols of his ties to the wizarding world where he belonged. The meaning behind the gift notwithstanding, he could not help feeling a shade warmer than usual. "But I can't keep this."

"This ring doesn't belong anywhere except on your finger. If you don't want it, you can throw it away." With ceremony Lucius brought Harry's hand to his lips and kissed the ring, swearing allegiance to his young lord. "It looks good on you," he said, sounding pleased.

"Because you designed it yourself?"

Unperturbed, Lucius brushed his lips against the back of Harry's hand, his cool grey eyes holding Harry in their gaze. "Because you are the one wearing it."

Those were little more than pretty words, Harry knew, words meant to eat at his defence, and yet his heart skipped a beat all the same. He did not want to talk anymore. Untying the sash around Lucius' waist, he leant forward and caught Lucius' lips with his lips, a kiss that Lucius returned after a beat. In the midst of tangled tongues and fusing heat, it occurred to Harry that he was not going to return the gift after all.

A warm hand stroked Harry's thigh; something cool and hard brushed against his skin and caught his attention. When he drew away from Lucius, he looked down at the pale hand resting on his thigh: a signet-ring gleamed silver on Lucius' finger. The man wore no other ring, not even a wedding ring. Perhaps he took it off before their meeting; perhaps he was not in the habit of wearing one. Harry never thought to ask, and Lucius never volunteered information unless there was something to be gained.

"Maybe I should give you a ring too," Harry joked as he slipped a hand beneath Lucius' dressing gown and found what he was looking for. "Something to remind you of me."

Lucius did not visibly react to Harry's fondling beyond the slightest of a quirk upon his lips. "I'm flattered," he murmured, his fingers tracing a path from Harry's thigh to his backside. "I didn't think you like me all that much."

 _Modesty doesn't suit you at all._ "I want you more than I like you." With that Harry straddled Lucius' lap and wrapped his arms around this slippery man who refused to be caught. "Thank you for the ring," he whispered into Lucius' ear before kissing Lucius' lips, not in gratitude but in greed.

* * *

 _Finis?_

A/N: In spite of what Harry says and thinks, he's probably kind of happy and shy about having received the ring from Lucius. Thank you for reading.


End file.
